


Trees and Inviolate Peace

by e_p_hart



Series: Nuvo Greek [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece & Rome, Alternate Universe - Future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 12:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1304761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_p_hart/pseuds/e_p_hart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even now in the midst of mourning, she must be careful.</p>
<p>There are dangers, temptations, everywhere.</p>
<p>And she knows that the Watchers never sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trees and Inviolate Peace

Even now in the midst of mourning, she must be careful.   
  
There are dangers, temptations, everywhere.   
  
And she knows that the Watchers never sleep.   
  
Her black chiton is designed to draw-- to capture attention, as is her artfully arranged tumbling hair, her tearstained face-- oh, but how she has played into their hands! Even now, in this despair, she cannot forget their true purpose, her true purpose. That day when they came for her brother, for her aunt, for that unknown girl who sat in the back of her Ethics class--  
  
These she cannot forget.   
  
The funeral is short and direct and utterly perfunctory; why should it be otherwise? After all, Helen had epitomized-- she had achieved what they should all pray for, hope for, wish for, each day, each hour, every second-- she had been Happy.   
  
But Kore misses her mother, for all that her friends congratulate her, and her teachers scold her for her tears and sadness.   
  
She should be happy. She should look forward to being Happy.   
  
She cannot.   
  


* * *

  
  
He is eating an orange now, and the scent drifts across the gazebo on the cool breeze. He licks the juice from his fingers, savors the pulpy flesh. Kore swallows.   
  
“What did you wish to discuss, niece?”  
  
A question. He has asked her-- a question. “My mother’s Happiness was sudden, she left behind no instructions regarding her belongings. You sent me a letter, detailing--”  
  
“Detailing what of hers I wish to have; yes, Kore, I believe I was explicit.” Another section of fruit. Her Uncle Galen always rode the razor’s edge.   
  
“With all due respect, uncle: her house? What am I to do?”   
  
His sharp eyes drink her in like the fruit he devours. “I do not know. You are welcome to remain there, with me.”   
  
The offer-- is there, hanging in the air. Galen is not her real uncle, but her aunt’s second husband; they have no true blood connections. And that sort of thing--   
  
She is shaking her head before she even reaches her decision. “Uncle, please. Grant me this one wish. Our home, her house-- And although I am sure there would be no true repercussions of- of anything, I would not desire to tempt fate. With you and I housing together.”   
  
He chuckles. “You live up to your name, niece, Kore. Very well; I will withdraw my interest.”  
  
“I thank you, uncle.”   
  


* * *

   
  
Into the science center, again, for her weekly meeting with Cadmus. New faces, always new, pass by; his office is dark and cool, the couch soft against her cheek. Safety? Of a sort.   
  
Cadmus sits with fingers steepled, as always. His routine and calm and-- yes-- distance are a comfort.   
  
But she is still careful to remind herself to be dissatisfied within her peace.   
  
“Your mother,” Cadmus says. “Helen. She had a great Happiness.”   
  
“I am proud of her.” The words are heavy and dank, rotted, for all their expectedness.   
  
Cadmus is shaking his head. “You must pull yourself back on track, Kore. You had been doing so well. And then this. You do know that it was in part your advancement that aided Helen’s Happiness?”   
  
“I suppose so.”   
  
“And your visit to your uncle-- you refused him. Will you not take another leap?”   
  
“Not with Galen. I know far too much about his ways, Cadmus. Surely you would be disappointed in me if I gained Happiness with such a toad?”  
  
“Your uncle? A toad?” Darkly rich laugh. “Very well, Kore; I will admit to that. Why not one of your friends, then: why not Laertes?”  
  
Beautiful Laertes, kind Laertes, who only wants to help her, to fix--  
  
“No. Not Laertes.”   
  
“What about Jason?”  
  
Jason is cruel, he is dangerous, he is-- utterly spellbinding to watch in motion, to dream, to wonder if--  
  
“Shall I take your silence as my answer?”   
  
“Cadmus--”  
  
“Very well, then, that will be your assignment for our next meeting. Jason.”  
  
“Cadmus, please--”  
  
“You may go about it as you wish; I have no thoughts to confine or limit you.”   
  
His smile is white and hungry in the darkness.   
  


* * *

  
  
School is-- school. Classes and talk and little darting glances toward her, between them all, full of so _much_ \--  
  
“Jason.”   
  
He looks up from his tablet, where he is playing some sort of game. He grins when he recognizes her.   
  
“Kore,” he says.   
  
“I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind helping me this afternoon with a project for maths. I missed so many classes last week, and I thought, you were so good with maths--”  
  
“Say no more.” Hand, perfectly formed and graceful, held between them. Except that this wall is not meant to keep her out, but to draw her in. “I know exactly what you mean.” His expression is helpful and earnest, but his eyes glitter with a deeper knowledge.   
  


* * *

  
  
Drinks set-- so, on the table here. Pillows strewn on the floor, falsely casual. Her black chiton ineffectually showing her lamentations, which he will brush aside without any qualms.   
  
She hates Cadmus for making her do this. Not that it will have any effect; she is not disillusioned enough for that.   
  
The whirring sound of the cameras, the non-sound of her Watchers, always monitoring, always Watching, waiting.  
  
This is-- intolerable.   
  
She will bear it. This suffering-- it is relief, it is assurance that she still remains.   
  
Kore is.   
  


* * *

  
  
Pleasure, she finds, is something entirely different that what she expected. And Jason-- even in her disappointed state, Kore cannot admit that *he* disappointed. Jason-- always was a beautiful boy, always with his curly hair, his snapping eyes, his quick tongue, his way of stripping down anyone's defenses--  
  
Needless to say, if that had not been Kore’s intent, she would have been powerful to stop him.   
  
But... it was not The Thing. Her heart did not overwhelm from contentment, from this desire at last satisfied.   
  
Jason leaves, and she stretches. Allows the pout to settle onto her lips. Notes the cameras noting it.   
  
She smiles.   
  


* * *

   
  
Cadmus seems too distant, today, for her to listen to him.   
  
“Jason did not satisfy you, Kore?”  
  
All his masculinity, all his attentions, all his quick answers and thinking, all his sportsmanship and posturing, his devilish good looks-- wasted. She shrugs, offers her empty hands.   
  
“I did try to tell you, Cadmus. Perhaps I need more of a mental connection?”   
  
He shifts. “That was why I suggested Laertes first, but you refused. May I ask why you refused?”   
  
“We have known each other for far too long. I fear any sort of-- movement towards something more would shatter our relationship into so many pieces.”   
  
“Laertes? Really?”   
  
Ah, Laertes, yes, this is what she dreams about, whom she *desires*--  
  
“Yes, Cadmus. I value our friendship too much.”   
  
“Is there nothing I can do to change your mind?”   
  
“No. There is not.”   
  


* * *

   
  
The news, of course, spreads around school like a virus. With the farther proof of stills from the video feed-- Jason’s father is a Watcher-- Kore becomes more of a celebrity. But whereas before they simply watched her, now they approach, touch, speak. Of course, why shouldn’t they? She is beautiful. That is how she was created. That is how they are all made.   
  
The breath of the gods--  
  
Laertes approaches her particularly, hopeful and defeated all at once. Golden hair, blue eyes, delicate and strong, fingers poetic and nimble--   
  
“Is it true?” he asks.   
  
She looks at him, wanting to deny him, knowing she must. “Yes, Laertes.”   
  
The crush-- It breaks her heart and uplifts it: she will not be responsible for his downfall.   


* * *

   
  
The visit is entirely expected. Nerissa is her only sister left.   
  
She storms in, hair shorter than Kore can remember, and windblown from the short flight from the island where Nerissa lives with her husband. Halts before Kore, looks her straight in the eye. “Kore.”   
  
She nods. “Nerissa.”   
  
“I came as soon as I heard.”   
  
This is, of course, a lie; if Nerissa had come as soon as she had heard, she would have been there long ago. The spread of information is not sluggish.   
  
But Kore plays along. “I thank you, sister. Your presence brings me much comfort in my time of mourning-- and, of course, your own. I hope that we shall be able to console each other in this--”  
  
Nerissa frowns. “Cut the crap, Kore. What are you doing?”   
  
“Excuse me?”   
  
“Uncle Galen! He told me what happened. Don’t deny it.”   
  
“Excuse me, Nerissa; but what happened?”   
  
She snorts, cross her arms, readying for battle. That much has not changed. “I know you were upset, but he is our uncle. And I know he isn’t really related to us, but the memory of our aunt--”  
  
“Nothing happened!”  
  
“-- should have been sufficient enough barrier for you. What did you say?”   
  
Inhale, deep and slow. “Nothing happened between us, sister. I assure you. He propositioned me; I refused.”   
  
“Then-- you did not--”  
  
“He sent me a message that entailed he wished to take mother’s house; I went to visit him, and when I asked him not to take it, he invited me to live with him here. I denied him.”  
  
“Uncle Galen spoke to me yesterday. He said that he felt too guilty not to speak of it, and I was your sister. He told me--” Stops. Smiles. “It is not true?”   
  
“No. Not with him.”   
  
Instant change: she grips Kore’s arm, all happiness and celebration. “Who? Tell me everything!”  
  
Kore leaves out not a detail. If Nerissa finds her Happiness here, well-- perhaps it says something that Kore wishes it. After all, Nerissa is not bad. Spiteful, perhaps, but not hateful.   
  
In any case, she does not, and leaves before dinner.   
  
Kore is alone.   
  


* * *

   
  
He is not eating this time: he is working, typing with quick taps. “Kore. To what do I owe this honor?”   
  
“What did you tell my sister, Nerissa?”   
  
The typing slows but does not stop. “I told her the truth. What she deduced from that, I cannot say. Your sister always did assume the worst.” He smiles, not directly, but at the tablet screen. “I heard about some boy named Jason.”   
  
And that-- no. “Are you jealous, uncle?”   
  
Now he does stop typing. “Jealous? Of what? You and some untried boy? Of course not. Don’t make me laugh.”   
  
“You did ask--”  
  
“Ask you what, Kore?” His words now have an undertone of violence, a dark current to suck her under. This, too, is dangerous, is want. “All I wanted was a new house. You denied me. You always deny me. What can I do but respect your wishes?” His face burns handsomely. “If you have nothing else to say to me, I wish you would leave me alone. I am very busy today.”   
  
Stand, brush down the bottom of her chiton, ignore the trailing of eyes-- “Very well, Uncle Galen.” Notice the deliberate lack of stress on ‘uncle.’ “Thank you for your time.”   
  


* * *

  
  
She wants to tell Cadmus of her restlessness, of her helplessness-- but then he would try to help her, fix it.   
  
That is what she wants and does. Not. Want.  
  
Or so she keeps telling herself.   
  
It becomes harder and harder each day.   
  
“Why not your uncle, Kore?”   
  
...specifically, not that. That is easy enough. “You saw how my sister reacted. How the others at school reacted. And Jason is acceptable. They do not know my uncle. I fear the backlash. And, like I said, he is a toad. He deliberately twisted his words to my sister, so that she would take our meeting in a different light. He is a liar, for all that he is beautiful. But there are many beautiful men who are not liars. And not family.”   
  
Cadmus hums. “Yes.” He makes a note into his tablet. Sets it aside. “You know there are no cameras in here. You may speak freely with me.”   
  
“But I am still monitored. And-- you are here.”   
  
“Ah, but I am trying to *help* you, Kore. You do know that, right?”   
  
He is trying to *help* her to-- to-- “I know that. And I do appreciate your efforts.”   
  
“I hope that one day you will tell me the truth.”   
  
Licks her lips. “I cannot hide my actions from you. I do not try.”   
  
He reaches over, knocks her gently on the head. “But you hide within your mind, Kore, more deeply than anyone I know. Except perhaps me.” A smile. “And I think you are definitely hiding from me.”   
  
“I think that you are wrong. Goodbye, Cadmus. Time is up. I will see you next week.”   
  
He reclines in his chair, watches her leave. His gaze is a heavy, warm chain.   
  


* * *

   
  
The flowers are beautiful.   
  
“Thank you, Laertes.” He works in his family’s flower shop. He brought her flowers. “They are very beautiful.”   
  
“I-- would you care to come with me after school? We have not spent much time together since-- your mother.” Endearingly hopeful.   
  
She cannot deny him this much. “Of course. You know you don’t have to bribe me.”   
  
“I like to give you gifts,” he says. And looks longingly.   
  
Oh, dear boy, how much would she give him, how much of herself--  
  
No.   
  
They will have a lovely afternoon in the gardens, among the fountains; they will enjoy the _flowers,_ not--  
  
Not.   
  
She is aware of her denial, so she is doubly certain never to fall.   
  


* * *

   
  
He takes her out on the water.   
  
The engine makes a barely detectable thrum that settles into her bones, that creeps with the insects, the small waves lapping at the sides of the boat--  
  
“So will you tell me why?”   
  
The sun is shining onto his head, making every strand of hair gleam as of gold, darkening his eyes into a deep ocean. His skin is warm.   
  
“Why what?”   
  
“Why Jason, Kore. I thought you told me everything. You never--” He glances at her little hum. “Well, you didn’t tell me.”   
  
“It-- wasn’t my choice, Laertes. Believe me. If I could have had it any other way--” Do not finish that statement. Do not.   
  
“Would it have been me, Kore? Ever?” He’s staring down into the boat, sadly.   
  
“Laertes--”  
  
“I will take you back to shore.”   
  
“*Laertes*. Please, let me explain.” There is nothing to do about her Watchers; they probably know already. “Please, I--”   
  
He’s shaking his head. “I don’t want to hear it, Kore. Did you know, that I would have considered myself Happy if you had come to me?”   
  
And that’s-- that’s the reason. There it is.   
  
“Laertes,” she gasps, “please. Don’t...”   
  
“Kore.” He takes her hand and pulls her in.   
  
“Don’t--”  
  
“I want to be Happy,” he murmurs, and kisses her.   
  
It-- is everything.   
  
She’s crying.   
  
“Kore,” he’s saying. His lips taste of bitterness and sunlight, and of fulfillment.   
  


* * *

  
  
The flying machines come before they have even made it back to shore, and they take Laertes away.   
  
They _take_ Laertes _away--_  
  
Ah, is this despair? Is this death?   
  
“Let me die, let me die,” she whispers into the marble floor of her cold, empty room.   
  
No response.   
  
Never--  
  


* * *

  
  
“You must pull yourself together, Kore,” Cadmus says.   
  
“I don’t care,” she cries. “I don’t want to. Cadmus--”  
  
“I know what you are doing,” he says. He puts down his tablet and seizes her shoulders, pulls her upright. “You think I don’t?”   
  
His fingers are cruel to her flesh.   
  
“I see myself in you,” he says. “I tried the same thing. You don’t *want* Happiness, you don’t want it for yourself, for anyone.”   
  
“Please--”  
  
“I have tried to keep this from my superiors, Kore. I have.”   
  
Terror clutches her, squeezes her heart so that it pounds. “You didn’t *tell* them, Cadmus? Oh, please--” She throws herself at him, into his calm embrace, his stern arms wrapping around her. “I don’t want to die,” she says it over and over; “I don’t want to die, please don’t let me die.”   
  
“It is inevitable,” he says. “You must stop fighting it, Kore.”   
  
“No; no, no, no--”  
  
“Give into it. What must I do to help you? What can I do to show you the way?”   
  
“Cadmus, please, I don’t--”  
  


* * *

   
  
This isn’t Happiness. It isn’t. This is-- this is _rape._   
  
Are desires and happiness separate?   
  
She tried to tell Cadmus--  
  
She tried.   
  
Perhaps, if Laertes had been first--  
  
And to lead him into his death?  
  
(You did that.)   
  
No, no, no, no. She never meant to--  
  
She doesn’t want to die.   
  
She does not.   
  


* * *

  
  
Facade of normalcy. Everyone whispers behind her back, points; Laertes’ name is upon their lips. They are at once jealous and frightened: all their assumptions have been proven wrong about Kore. She did not go with Laertes.   
  
“What is wrong with her?” they wonder. “Maybe she cannot find Happiness.” This thought makes them titter, glare at her.   
  
She hears, but does not care.   
  
She-- has everything she ever wanted.   
  
She is not Happy.   
  
It is her own decision.   
  
“What kind of life will you have?” Cadmus had asked her, after. “What will you do?”   
  
She had stood up, adjusted her chiton, and said, “I will live.”   
  
“But will you really be living?”   
  
Tilted her face away, don’t let the tears spill over.   
  
That is the question, the very-- question.   
  
Is there an answer?   
  
She had said, “Yes,” but she lied.   
  
Kore lies. That is her nature. She sleeps on falsehoods, buries her desires, her hopes, deep, deep within herself.   
  
She imagines herself as an old woman, an aching, bitter woman--   
  
Walking through the halls, the sunlight dazzling her eyes, of course, is why she tears up.   
  
Living--  
  
Knowing--  
  
\--yes--

**Author's Note:**

> I am pleased with the way this turned out-- for the most part. Cadmus in the end is rather heavy-handed; but that is his revenge because I delayed him, and he did not like it. Ah, well. Laertes needed-- Well. He was Happy.
> 
> Please, discuss. Questions are desired, as are point-outs of anything wrong, as usual.
> 
> Title from, duh, DH Lawrence, "Heimweh":
> 
> "It stands so still in the hush composed of trees and inviolate peace,  
> The home of my fathers, the place that is mine, my fate and my old increase.  
> And now that the skies are falling, the world is spouting in fountains of dirt,  
> I would give my soul for the homestead to fall with me, go with me, both in one hurt."


End file.
